Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04] (7 page)

Her voice startled him out of his brief trance, and an unfamiliar feeling of heat in his cheeks thoroughly disconcerted him. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“You need not do so,” she said kindly, making him flush all the more when he realized that she had misunderstood and thought he had apologized for staring. Fortunately, before he could disabuse her of the notion, she added, “I know who you are, you see, and you cannot possibly know me.”

“Do you always walk right up to strange men and begin a conversation? For that matter, do you—?”

“Are you a strange man?”

Unaccountably he found himself chuckling. “Perhaps we ought to begin this conversation again. In fairness, though, I should warn you that Lady Tavistock is looking our way. I daresay she will not approve of your forward manners.”

“She will not approve of me in any event.”

“You say that quite calmly. I should think that since she is chief lady of the bedchamber her disapproval could well end your welcome here.”

“I doubt that she will pay me that much heed, sir. As a maid of honor, I am little more than a lowly attendant, and besides, I am only a sop.”

“A what?” What mad sort of female was this?

“A sop,” she repeated. “It’s what my brother Gideon called me. We’re Tories, you see—my family, that is—and the queen does not want any Tory women here. She appointed me only to appease the grumblers who deplore the fact that she is attended only by members and toadies of the most powerful Whig families. Now that I come to think of it, though, that must include you.”

“I confess to being a Whig,” he said cautiously. Then, impulsively, he added, “You are certainly an original, ma’am, if I may say so.”

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t,” she retorted. “It makes me feel like some sort of
objet d’art
that you’d like to stick up on a shelf somewhere.”

“You pronounce that phrase like a veritable Frenchman.”

“Like a French
woman
, I should hope. The fact is that I spoke French before I spoke English, or at all events, from much the same time.”

“Then you had a French nurse as well as a French governess, I expect.”

“Yes, but my situation was not quite what you must be thinking.”

“What I am thinking is that you are a most unusual young woman, who will likely find herself in the suds before long.”

“Do you think so?”

“My dear girl, I found you on a solicitor’s doorstep with no one to protect you but another female. I grant you, she looked a proper dragon, but that is
not
an area of town in which I should be pleased to find my sister.”

“Have you got a sister?”

“No, but—”

“Then I don’t think you should set yourself up as an expert on the subject,” she said. “For that matter, Mr. Clifford’s office is quite near St. James’s—”

“Exactly my point. Many gentlemen’s clubs sit in that district, you know.”

“Are you suggesting that I might have been molested by a gentleman?”

“No, of course not, but—”

“Now that you put me in mind of it, I very nearly was, was I not?”

“What the devil are you talking about now?”

“You say that you found me, but the truth, sir, is that you nearly knocked me flat. Although that is not
molesting
in the truest sense of the word—”

“It certainly is not!”

“Well, I just said so, didn’t I? Still, I do take your point.”

He felt dizzy. She made it sound as if she were agreeing with him, but he found it hard to remember what his point had been. He certainly felt none of the satisfaction that such agreement ought to have given him.

Drawing a slow, deep breath, careful to let none of his disconcertion show, he said gently, “I feel obliged to offer you some advice, my girl.”

“Then I must warn you, sir, that I do not take kindly to unsolicited advice, particularly not from strange men, and
most
particularly not from one who addresses me as his girl. Moreover, I daresay Lady Tavistock’s disapproval of me would pale by comparison with her disapproval of your addressing me in such a rude and heedless fashion. We’ve not even been properly introduced!”

His temper ignited. “Why, you little spitfire, I meant only kindness. How the devil you have the nerve to take me up like that after you accosted
me
—”

“Accosted you! My dear sir—”

“Hush,” he said abruptly, when his attention shifted to a familiar figure approaching them. “Sir John is returning, and little though you deserve—”

“Sir John who?” An arrested look in her eyes stirred his interest even more.

“Sir John Conroy,” he said, watching her narrowly. “Look here, do you make it a habit constantly to interrupt other people, because I must tell you—”

“Yes, I do. I’ve striven for years to overcome the fault, but to no avail, I’m afraid. It is my besetting sin—or one of them,” she added with a conscientious air of setting the record straight. “Do you admire Sir John Conroy?”

Justin was grateful for the buzz of conversation in the room, because without it both Conroy and the aide who was his constant companion were close enough to have overheard the question. As it was, he could be nearly certain that her voice had not carried to either man’s ears. Offending Conroy was dangerous at the best of times. Just now, his mood seemed grim enough for an offense to prove deadly.

“I would offer to introduce you,” Justin said, “if I knew your name.”

She had turned, frowning, to look at Conroy, who had paused nearby to exchange a word with someone. When she glanced back at Justin, her frown vanished, and an engaging twinkle lighted her silvery eyes.

“I shall be sorry to end our conversation,” she said. “Still, I expect I must tell you my name, for I can scarcely refuse now. I’m afraid I am Letitia Deverill.”

“Good Lord.” He stared at her, dumbfounded.

“I want to speak to you, Raventhorpe,” Conroy said, startling him. Justin had not noticed that he and his shadow were on the move again.

Still dazed, he greeted the other man vaguely.

Conroy shook his hand. Then, shooting a glance at Letitia, he added in a falsely jovial tone, “I see that you have met our little Tory. Are you growing accustomed to life at court, Lady Letitia?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said politely.

Justin looked from one to the other. “I was about to introduce her to you, sir. I did not realize the two of you had met.”

“We haven’t,” she said bluntly. “Nor do I know his companion. I believe Sir John interrupted a conversation I was enjoying a while ago, however.”

Justin experienced an unaccustomed collision of emotions. Although he felt a tickle of amusement, a surge of anger banished it, and much as he disliked Conroy, he did not think the anger he felt was in any way that gentleman’s fault.

Conroy smiled, bestowing upon Lady Letitia the sort of look that made Justin glad he did
not
have a sister.

Keeping his temper on a firm rein, he said, “In that case, let me introduce him properly, ma’am. This is Sir John Conroy, onetime close advisor to the queen, and his aide, Charles Morden.”

Conroy’s eyebrows snapped together, and his jaw clenched, but these signs did not move Justin. He had no cause to fear Conroy.

“Goodness,” Lady Letitia said, looking at the latter with widened eyes. “Do you no longer advise Her Majesty, Sir John?”

Conroy’s lips pressed to a thin line, and Justin knew from experience that the man strove to control a temper even more volatile than his.

“The queen has much to learn about her august position,” Conroy said grimly. “She inherited the throne at a very early age, as you must know.”

“She will celebrate her twentieth birthday next month, sir,” Lady Letitia said. “I am nearly that age myself. Do you think a sensible woman of twenty too young to take full responsibility for her duties?”

“What I think is not relevant,” Conroy said. “She is the queen. All I meant by my observation is that if she sometimes acts impulsively, we cannot wonder at it. In my experience—and I have known her nearly from the cradle—her intelligence generally outweighs her impulses. Therefore she will soon seek advice again from those she knows she can trust to act in her best interest.”

“I should think she would want what is best for the country,” Lady Letitia said demurely.

Seeing color leap to Conroy’s cheeks, Justin said quickly, “To be sure, that is always Her Majesty’s main concern. From what I have seen, she is wise beyond her years. I do not think we need fear she will act rashly.”

“Nor do I,” Conroy said testily. “So don’t think you can make mischief, Raventhorpe. Look here, I want a word with you. Forgive us, my lady.”

Letty watched the three men walk away, feeling oddly bereft. For a short time, while she had been chatting with Raventhorpe, she had seen others watching them with open curiosity. Some had even looked as if they might approach, and she had harbored a small hope that he would introduce her so that she could make some friends. It was not to be, however. As Sir John Conroy led him away, she saw the others turn back to their previous conversations.

She tried several times to approach other ladies of the court, but they haughtily kept their distance.

A gentleman approached her shortly before Lady Sutherland dismissed the queen’s ladies to change for dinner, but he wanted only to tell her that he had the honor to be her dinner partner. Turning on his heel the moment he had spoken, he neglected even to offer his name. By then she had come to understand that, although she had previously met only a few of the people in the room, everyone there knew exactly who she was and why she was there.

That thought would have depressed a less resilient spirit, but Letty had spirit to spare. Since her duty required only her presence that afternoon, she strolled about the room, looking at pictures and furniture, hoping she succeeded in looking occupied and undistressed by her isolation.

It occurred to her that no one had specifically informed her that she was to make one of the royal dinner party. However, since she apparently had a dinner partner, she felt it safe to assume that she was to do so.

Shortly before the queen withdrew to change for dinner, Letty saw Raventhorpe talking with a tall, blond young woman, whom she recognized as Susan Devon-Poole. She knew little about Miss Devon-Poole other than that she seemed to begin every sentence with “my goodness me,” but her apparent hauteur now, even while conversing with him, seemed equal to that of anyone in the room.

Aware of an odd disappointment that he had not returned to continue their conversation, Letty told herself she was being foolish. That he had spoken to her once did not mean he would do so again, much as she had enjoyed exchanging verbal thrusts with him.

When Victoria retired to her dressing room, her ladies and gentlemen followed suit. Letty easily found the stairway leading to her apartment, but to her surprise, Miss Dibble and Jenifry awaited her on the landing outside her door.

Had she not been so glad to see them, she might have wondered what they were doing there. As it was, she greeted them with unqualified relief.

“You cannot imagine how pleasant it is to see friendly faces,” she exclaimed. Only when both remained silent did she note their distress. “What’s amiss?”

“It’s really quite dreadful, miss,” Jenifry said grimly.

At the same time, Miss Dibble said, “To think such a thing could happen right in Buckingham Palace. I do not know how you will dress for dinner.”

Hearing distant, muffled noises from the depths of the stairwell, Letty said, “Tell me the worst quickly. Someone is coming.”

“Hopefully, it’s someone to clear away the mess,” Jenifry said.

“What mess?”

Miss Dibble grimaced. “I cannot even speak the words. I am surprised that you cannot smell it, Letitia. To think we were away less than a quarter hour!”

“I do smell something horrid. What is it?”

Jenifry said bluntly, “Slops. Someone emptied at least two basins on the floor whilst we were making ourselves familiar with the corridors and stairways.”

“One of the gentlemen’s valets very kindly showed us to a common room, rather like a servants’ hall,” Miss Dibble said. “It is for those of us who look after ladies and gentlemen of the court, but I expect we shouldn’t have gone so far.”

“Fiddlesticks,” Letty said. “How could you suspect that you had reason to guard my room?”

“Well, we will guard it after this,” Jenifry said angrily. “It’s a good thing we didn’t bring more of your clothing, Miss Letty. They threw your lilac gown right down in the mess. It will never come clean again!”

“Clearly, someone wants me gone,” Letty said, sighing. “Where is Lucas?”

Miss Dibble said, “I sent him to fetch a slavey to clean up the mess. That must be them now.”

The stairway doubled back on itself several times, so it was some time after Letty had first heard the voices that a hurried thump of feet on the carpeted flight below heralded the appearance of three men on the half-landing. The first was Lucas, and he led two menials with buckets, brushes, and pails. Bringing up the rear of the procession was the Duchess of Sutherland’s footman.

“Your man told me what happened, my lady,” he said quietly. “I informed her grace, who gave orders that you are to remove to another chamber. If your women do not want to go back inside to fetch what you need, one of these men can do so. You need only tell them what you require.”

Jenifry said quickly, “I’ll fetch your dressing case, Miss Letty.”

“No, you won’t,” Miss Dibble said sharply. “You’ll come back reeking of heaven-knows-what. Fortunately, there is very little there,” she said to the duchess’s footman. “One dressing case with her ladyship’s initials on it, and sundry articles of clothing. The latter items you can arrange to have properly cleaned and returned to her ladyship. Do not, under any circumstances, allow your people to take them into her new room without a thorough cleaning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the footman said, signing to the menials to enter the room. Then he added quietly, “We will do our best to find whoever did this, my lady. I feel bound to tell you, however, that so far no one admits seeing anyone up here.”